Pain
by Silvershadow426
Summary: A one-shot I wrote that was originally supposed to be an escape from depression. Originally published 6/22/2011 on my old account.


Pain. That one, small word doesn't even begin to describe my life. What did I do to deserve this? How did my life end up becoming a living hell? Maybe it was when my older brother left for college and made me the last remaining child. Or maybe it was when I lost my best friend at only ten years old. God, I miss Brian… I hope you're having fun in that dog park in the sky, old buddy.

I'm fourteen now, and for some reason it seems like everyone around me has completely given up. Especially Lois and the fat man. It's like they don't even care about anything anymore. It's about two in the morning, so they should start yelling any second now. I can't even tell you how many sleepless nights I've endured. I even used to cry a little.

_Used _to.

Not anymore though.

"Peter, I've told you again and again. You've got to stop coming home so late!" It was Lois's voice, trying to stay as calm as possible. But I knew how it would go. It's the same damn routine almost every single night.

"Don't tell me what to do." Peter's voice was slurred. This was, what, the fourth night this week that he's come home completely drunk? I almost wonder who's still sober enough to drive him and all his other drunken friends home.

"No, Peter," Lois replied, already losing her patience. "I will tell you what to do. You've come home almost every night drunk, and I'm sick of it!"

Three, two, one.

"Shut up, bitch!"

Was I surprised that I suddenly heard thumps and cries of pain? No. Was I surprised at how quickly they had started fighting? No. Every time Peter came home drunk, the countdown to the fight would get shorter and shorter. Tonight was a record for shortest argument and longest fight.

At around 2:20, the noises finally stopped. And now to continue with the usual drill: fat man comes home late, he's drunk, they swap words, fight, lay on the floor for the night, wake up with bruises, fat man doesn't remember anything, they don't talk to each other, Lois wonders why she hasn't left the house yet. And why hasn't she left the house yet?

Me.

She keeps trying to convince me that we don't need to leave and that everything is ok. I'm not an idiot, dammit! I know that everything you're telling me is a lie! Why is it so hard to just tell me the freaking truth?

My phone rang on the table next to me, almost making my heart stop. I looked at the sender of the text message, and released a sigh full of relief with a strong mixture of sadness. I flipped open my phone and read the message from my long time sweetheart, Trina.

"Stewie, please don't do this! I love you too much to let you go!"

You know someone is dead serious about something when everything in a text message is grammatically correct. I was glad that she was concerned about me at almost 2:30 in the morning, so I sent her back a grammatically correct message.

"I'm sorry, Trina. But it has to be done."

There were two things my parents didn't know about me. One, I know everything that Lois tells me is a lie because I'm awake long enough to hear what goes on downstairs. And two, I'm bullied at school. Ever since my parents started fighting, apparently my attitude changed. So people stopped hanging out with me. I have no friends, people throw crap at me in the halls everyday, and I'm failing almost all of my classes. Except my creative writing class. I wonder why.

The only person I do have is Trina.

I've known Trina since I was seven. Three years later when Brian died, she was there to comfort me and help me through it. Whenever I didn't feel safe in my own house, I'd go to hers. She always welcomed me, even if her parents didn't. At age twelve I had finally mustered up the courage to ask her out, and when she said yes she made me feel happier than I had in a long time. But nowadays, I wonder why she hasn't dumped me yet. Because she's dating me, people bully her too. They do to her what they do to me, and it breaks my heart to see her walk into school with a bright, happy face only to be met by name calling jerks.

My phone rang again. This time, she was calling me.

"Stewie! I'm coming over right now. I'm not letting you go through with this!" I sighed.

"Trina, you have to understand. I'm not just doing this for me. I'm doing this for you, too. I can't take the fact that you have to go through pain just to be with me."

"But I don't care! I chose to be with you, no matter what! Please, Stewie!" Her desperation was painful, but nothing she said would change my mind.

"Don't come over, Trina. I don't want you to see this."

"But Stewie-"

"Trina!" I shouted back, silencing her. When I heard her utter a small gasp on the other end, I sighed apologetically. "Good-bye, Trina. I love you." I hung up before she could say anything else. Nothing she said would matter anymore.

As I placed the phone back on the table, my sleeves came up slightly, causing me to bare my teeth in anger. I rolled them up angrily and stared at the multiple scars engraved forever into my skin. After a few seconds of looking at my arms, I turned my attention to the corner of my room. Jammed into the wall, deep enough so that you could only see the handle, was the knife that made these scars. I turned my attention back to my arms, thinking about all the hellish shit I had gone through. Using that knife didn't even hurt anymore; that's how many times I had used it. The first couple of times it had burned. But now, it was so numb I needed something more to feel.

And that's when I looked at the gun that sat on my bed.

The gun that I had stolen from Joe.

The gun that had mocked me for weeks.

When I had stopped feeling the pain from the knife, I started to think about what I could do to get that pain back. Drastic? Maybe. Did I care? Not really.

Holding that gun in my right hand almost felt natural. Its cold shell seemed to give me a feeling of succession, like it was welcoming what I was about to do. As I replayed all the hellish memories through my head, I subconsciously started raising the metal weapon to my ear. And the memory that made me pull that trigger and send me through a split second of beautiful pain? When some senior at school had trapped me in a corner, and right as he was about to throw a punch my way, Trina jumped in and took it for me.

Like I said. I was doing this for her, too.

So if you're reading this Trina, know that I will always love you with all my heart. Thank you for always being there for me. But just because I'm gone doesn't mean that you have to disappear, too. Make friends, live life to the fullest, and don't be afraid to fall in love again. And don't worry; I know that you loved me first.

And to Lois and Peter, I don't even know what to say anymore. I'm sure this letter has explained everything that I've felt. Happy now? Granted, it's not all entirely your fault. Lois, I know you tried to care for me, but you should've just come right out and told me what was really going on. I already knew anyway. Why did you have to keep telling me lies? And Peter, well, all I can really say is screw you. Have fun at my funeral.

Signed, Stewie Griffin


End file.
